


who's gonna drive you home tonight

by nerdyscully (dalecooperscoffee), robin_hoods



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Derry is still a shithole, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Motorcycles, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Strangers to Lovers, tattooed eddie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-11-09 07:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20849804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalecooperscoffee/pseuds/nerdyscully, https://archiveofourown.org/users/robin_hoods/pseuds/robin_hoods
Summary: Motorcycle guy laughed, slowly (or maybe that was just in Richie’s imagination) taking his helmet off.Oh my fucking God, Richie thought. Maybe it was just because this guy had saved his ass, but Richie was certain he had never seen a more beautiful man before. Motorcycle guy shook his head a bit, running a hand through his messy hair--but like, messy in a handsome way. His thoughts were running away from him. “I guess I should introduce myself,” he said. “My name’s Eddie.”Or, Richie, just fired from his dead-end job taking calls from people who have no idea how to turn their connection on and off, meets Eddie, returning on his motorbike to a town he swore he left behind years ago. They say there's nothing to be found in Derry, nothing to be made -- but maybe they find each other, and make the best of it.





	1. Richie Tozier and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> So, Deedee and I decided to write this after realising there wasn't nearly enough bad boy Eddie fic -- and there should definitely be more because oof. We're writing the chapters together, so we don't alternate. Richie and Eddie both have POVs. I think that's it. 
> 
> Warning for one use of the F slur this chapter.
> 
> Title from [Drive](https://open.spotify.com/track/3wfujdbamR3Z46F4xav7LM?si=5msszTGSTDKFue1ObnGNCg) by The Cars.

Richie was having the  _ worst _ day of his life. He should’ve known to stay in bed when he slipped on a stray sock this morning and bruised his tailbone, but Richie rarely listened to reasonable advice, even if it came from himself. So out of bed he got, and it only got worse from there.

When he stepped out of his apartment, there was a paper on his door. Sometimes religious groups came by and put shit there (even though that was  _ technically _ illegal), so he figured it was that, at first. But there it was, in dark black letters:  **EVICTION NOTICE.** “Oh my God…” he groaned, but he should’ve seen it coming. 

Richie had worked in a call center for a few months, but it had made him miserable. It barely paid enough for rent, to the point where many (if not most) of his payments had been late. He hated everything about it, the script he had to follow, the fact that he had to sound  _ cheerful _ , the allocated time he was forced to stay on the phone. But he stayed, because how the hell else was he supposed to get out of this town if he didn’t have money? Well, now he had no money  _ and  _ no job, because he had been laid off earlier this week. His boss had said some bullshit about him not being a “good fit for the company.”. 

Now, on top of having to search for a new job, he had to start searching for a new apartment. He pulled the paper from the door. Seven days. Jesus Christ. How was anybody supposed to find a place to stay in that amount of time? Let alone with rent so low he could afford it. This place had been dirt cheap already -- and it had shown -- so maybe the only place to go from here was… He balled up the notice and shoved it into his coat pocket. He had seven days. If he couldn’t find a place, maybe he could ask a friend (ha!) if he could crash on their couch for a bit. Just what he’d always wanted for himself, being twenty-five, unemployed, and soon-to-be homeless. What a fucking joke his life was.

He made his way downtown, desperately looking for a “we’re hiring” sign. Maybe he’d find something good; something that  _ didn’t _ make him wanna blow his brains out every day. The downtown area of Derry was small, but had lots of little, local businesses, and he assumed they’d be desperate for employment. As usual, though, his assumptions were wrong.  _ Worked there _ , he thought, passing by a fast food place,  _ got laid off after high school, they probably don’t want me back. _ Across from the fast food place was a bookstore.  _ Shouldn’t work there _ , he mused,  _ I hear the owner is a dick. _ There was a bank.  _ No way am I getting a job there _ .

He crossed the road, trying to decide if he should even bother going inside the 7/11 to ask if they had vacancies. He may or may not have slipped a few packs of cigarettes from there, although he obviously was never going to admit to that. The owner, though, he always scrutinised him, as if he was making sure Richie wasn’t stuffing his pockets with merchandise. He’d never been caught, however. It probably wasn’t a good idea to apply. He shook his head and moved on. There was the arcade, a place he’d spent so much time in as a kid he practically lived there. It had closed down a couple of years ago, though, so no need to bother there.

This seemed so pointless. He wondered, briefly, if he had angered some god up there in order for this to happen, but he didn’t really believe in that shit, and he wasn’t about to start. He meandered down the street, desperately hoping for something, anything, when he saw one of the last people he wanted to run into right now. He didn’t remember the guy’s name--it wasn’t one of Bowers’ gang members, but he had sort of floated around in that orbit, and tormented Richie every goddamn time he saw him. Even now, when they were adults and supposed to be past that shit. 

Some people never grew past petty high school grudges, and this guy -- Peter, Piers, Pete, whatever -- was one of them. Richie turned his head away, facing the boring decoration of the only local shoe store. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, if he could help it; he’d already had to replace his frames twice this year, and he couldn’t afford a third replacement. Unless he went with the old scotch tape method, of course. He casually glanced sideways, pretending to check out a poster advertising a movie that had to be at least three years old by now. Shit, he wasn’t moving. He might as well get a move on himself, slip into the library, or the butcher’s, or any place where they wouldn’t turn a blind eye to all the awful shit that happened in this town.

He didn’t succeed in making himself unnoticeable though, because whatever the asshole’s name was saw him and started calling after him. “Hey, fag, long time no see!” He shouted after him, his voice possibly the ugliest sound in the whole world. Richie tensed, willing his legs to just  _ run _ or even walk, but it was like he was stuck, and Mr. P or whatever was coming towards him. He was tempted to pinch himself to make sure this wasn’t a nightmare.

Richie forced a smile onto his face. “Petey! Great to see you, too!”

“It’s Preston, fuckface,” he said. “You dumb?”

“Not as dumb as you,” Richie cheerfully said, mentally stomping on his own foot to stop himself from talking. In less than ten seconds, Preston’s face had turned an ugly shade of red. “Although I do tend to lose brain cells whenever I talk to you, so maybe we’ll get to the same level at some point.”

“Where do you get off talking to me like that, you freak?” Preston grabbed Richie by the collar of his shirt, his breath smelling like the worst possible brand of cigarettes. “What the fuck’s wrong with you, huh? You think you can just go around insulting people?” Richie tried to respond, but his throat closed up and he could only sort of sputter. “I won’t hesitate to fuck your shit up,” he says, and Richie could see him forming a fist with his free hand.  _ Maybe this’ll kill me _ , he thought.  _ That would top off this day well. _

The whole thing was interrupted, though, when both of them heard the rumbling of a motorcycle.

Preston let go of his shirt so quickly Richie lost his footing and fell backwards -- right onto his bruised tailbone. Ouch. 

To his surprise, the motorcycle stopped by the curb, the rider holding out a foot to keep himself (was it a guy? Richie had no idea) steady. “Everything alright here?” A voice came from underneath the helmet.

“Uh,” Richie eloquently said.

“Mind your own fucking business,” Preston said.

The guy swiftly stepped off his bike, and although Preston had a few inches on him, motorcycle guy carried himself with enough confidence that it shrunk the bully down. 

“Beating someone up in broad fucking daylight? How stupid are you, man? Why don’t you just get lost before I give you a taste of your own medicine. Jesus Christ.” Richie watched his shoulders shake as he laughed, and blinked. He looked down at Richie (or, Richie thought he did). “You okay? Anything hurting?”

“N-no,” Richie replied. Well, aside from his ass. But motorcycle guy didn’t need to know that.

Mr Motorcycle crossed his arms when he faced Preston again. “Don’t make me tell you twice. Or did you  _ want _ me to call my fellow bikers?”

“I’m, uh, I’m good,” Preston said, turning around, walking so quickly Richie thought he could break into a run any second now. The biker turned around, and held out a hand to him, which Richie gratefully took. To his surprise, he was pulled up as if he weighed nothing, even though Richie himself was pretty damn tall. He  _ was _ pretty skinny, though. 

“Maybe I should consider buying a motorcycle,” Richie said, before he could shut his mouth. 

Motorcycle guy laughed, slowly (or maybe that was just in Richie’s imagination) taking his helmet off.  _ Oh my fucking God _ , Richie thought. Maybe it was just because this guy had saved his ass, but Richie was certain he had never seen a more beautiful man before. Motorcycle guy shook his head a bit, running a hand through his messy hair--but like, messy in a handsome way. His thoughts were running away from him. “I guess I should introduce myself,” he said. “My name’s Eddie.”

Richie opened his mouth, willing sound to come out. All he managed was a rather breathless sounding laugh. 

Eddie tilted his head. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m--I’m good! I’m great!” Richie said.

“I could drive you to the hospital if--”

“No, no! That’s fine! I’m okay! I’m fine!”

Eddie chuckled softly. “I’ll take your word for it. Do you want me to try and guess your name? Hmm, you don’t look like a Bill. Or a Jason…”

“I-It’s Richie!” he finally managed to stammer out. “Richie Tozier. Um. Nice to meet you, right?” He laughed again. There was no humor in it.

“Yeah, I wish it were under better circumstances,” Eddie replied, “Does that guy usually do shit like that? Jesus.”

“That wasn’t even the worst,” Richie grimaced. “Uh, you might want to call your biker buddies, because he’s  _ not _ going to be a happy camper.”

Eddie scratched the back of his head. “It’s just me, actually. I figured a little white lie wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Richie’s mouth dropped open. Was this guy for real?

“I won’t be in town for long, though,” Eddie said. 

“So… are you a tourist? Just riding through?”

Eddie glanced down at himself. “Just riding through, pretty much,” he said. “I’m here to visit family. I grew up in this area.”

“Oh,” Richie said. Richie felt like he had to know him, considering the small size of the town, and the fact Eddie looked around the same age. He would’ve  _ remembered _ a face like that, though. Holy shit. “In Derry, you mean?”

“Just off Witcham,” Eddie said. “Anyway, I should probably go. Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Sure,” Richie said. “There are only so many places you can go in a place like this.”

“Hopefully no one fucks with you again after this.” Eddie put his helmet back on, and Richie felt like mourning the cute face he hadn’t seen enough of. “But if they do, I’ll be around. I mean, if I’m still here. Either way. Good luck, man.”

“Thanks,” Richie smiled nervously. “It was really nice of you to do, y’know, what you did.”

“No need to thank me.” Eddie straddled the motorcycle again, and Richie’s thoughts turned suddenly very impure. “See you around, Tozier.”

“You too.” Richie watched him throttle the engine, and didn’t stop staring until he’d disappeared from sight. 

What the fuck had just happened?


	2. The Wicked Witch of Witcham Street

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! this is deedee (nerdyscully). i hope you're all enjoying this fic so far. robin and i are having a blast writing this. i hope you like this chapter!

Within the first ten minutes of riding into Derry, Eddie was already breaking up a fight. Figured. Once a shithole, always a shithole, right?

There’d never been a place he’d been so glad to leave as Derry, and now he was back, trying not to lose his nerve and turn around, back home. But home was over a day’s drive away, and he was tired, and if he was honest, he could use a nap. He just wasn’t looking forward to the conversation that would precede it. 

He knocked on the door to his childhood home, the door immediately flying open. His mother had been waiting by the window. Of course. “Eddiebear!” she exclaimed, bringing him in for a tight hug, which he reluctantly reciprocated. “Why are you driving a motorcycle? What is wrong with you? Do you know how dangerous that is? Do you know how many people die riding motorcycles? Are you trying to get hurt, or killed?!”

“Ma, I--”

“You’re going to give your mother a heart attack,” she said, not letting him speak, “Is that what you want? You move so far away for so long, and you come back driving a motorcycle? You want to hurt me, I see.”

“Do you want me to come in or not?” he asked, ignoring the not exactly subtle way she was trying to manipulate him. He knew he shouldn’t bother trying to defend his choices, but he knew he would, one way or another. 

“Yes, yes,” she pulled him inside by the arm. “Come in, before the neighbors see you. A motorcycle! Honestly.” She was still shaking her head by the time he was forced into a seat in the living room, and he experienced a sick sense of déjà vu. Nothing had changed. He could’ve left yesterday, for all he knew. Even the calendar on the wall, with some of the most ugly flower photos Eddie had ever seen, hadn’t changed, aside from the year. “And put that thing away in the garage before dinner.”

“Okay,” he said, agreeable. He had to pick his battles, after all. 

“Your bedroom is all set up for you,” she said, but he knew she probably hadn’t touched it, just left it as it is, waiting for him to come back. He had avoided returning to Derry up til now. If he could, he would have driven away and never come back, but he knew that was an unrealistic wish. Especially while his mother was still alive.

“I don’t know how long I’m gonna stay,” he said, “I have lots of work to do back home.”

“Well, you need to help me move!” His mother insisted. “That’s what you promised!”

“I promised I’d stay as long as I could,” Eddie said patiently. “I only have so many vacation and PTO days.” He stood up, already starting to feel suffocated after a mere fifteen minutes in her presence. “I’m gonna take my riding clothes off and take my things upstairs, if that’s okay?”

“Get yourself into something more presentable, yes,” his mother said, and Eddie tried not to roll his eyes. He’d only brought so many changes of clothes, it wasn’t as if he could fit that much on his bike. 

“I’ll be back in a minute.” He put his bike in the garage, stripping off the bags that he’d attached to the back at the beginning of the trip. When he came back inside, his mother was standing in the kitchen, and it smelled like… Eddie wasn’t sure, but it reminded him of his childhood; coming home from the pharmacy and being force fed this or that food his mother insisted was good for him.

Instead, he made his way upstairs. He took a breath before opening his old bedroom door, knowing he should expect the worst. 

There was a thin layer of dust covering everything, which was the only thing that really kept Eddie from believing he had stepped back in time. He certainly felt like it. When he looked in the closet, he scowled at the line of polo shirts and button-ups. He wouldn’t dare put one of those on now, but he had to be “presentable”. Maybe he had something in his bag that his mother would be satisfied with.

He stripped off his shirt, throwing it to the bed, rummaging through his bag. He didn’t pack anything “nice”, he saved those clothes for work events or when he went on dates (which, really, wasn’t that often). He decided on a plain gray t-shirt, wondering how his mother could possibly complain about that. He paired it with a black pair of jeans. He ran his fingers through his hair, messed up by his helmet, and walked back into the kitchen, preparing for the worst.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked, by way of making conversation. His mother looked up at him -- and wasn’t that a surprise, last time he’d been here, she’d still been taller -- and smiled.

“I made your favorite. Lasagna!” 

Eddie opened his mouth, then closed it again. Lasagna had been his favorite… at age ten. Now he could barely look at it without gagging. He wrinkled his nose behind her back, but smiled as soon as she looked at him. 

“Set the table, would you, Eddiebear?”

“Sure.”

Everything was still in its usual place, and he put down placemats, plates, cutlery. Almost like he’d never even left. It felt that kind of familiar. 

His mother was just about to take a seat at the table when she spotted his bare arms. 

“What is that?” she asked, grabbing his arm with more force than Eddie expected. He nearly recoiled and pulled his arm back, but he knew that would cause more trouble than what it was worth. “What is this, Eddie?” 

“It’s a tattoo, ma.” He figured there was no use in lying.

“Why would you do that?” His mother’s face was white, like the mere  _ sight _ of his tattoo was making her ill. “You must like hurting your mother, is that it? Don’t you know no one will like you if you have things like that on your skin? People will think you’re dangerous and dirty. Is that what you want to be like?”

“I drive a motorbike, ma,” he said, gently extricating his arm from her hand. “People already think that.” That was fine with him, to be honest. “A tattoo isn’t going to make a difference.”

“You could’ve gotten  _ diseases _ , though!” Her voice was loud, and shrill. “They don’t clean the needles, and you could get STDs, or AIDS--”

“I’m not sick, ma.” It was pointless trying to fight with her whether tattoo shops were riddled with disease and creepy guys, though. He’d still be here next year if he tried that. “I’m fine.”

She narrowed her eyes. “ _ Clearly _ being on your own hasn’t been good for you at all, Eddiebear!” She made him sit down at the dinner table, and fussed with his hair. “You’ve missed the influence of your mother, and somebody has to look after you.” She tsk’ed. “As you haven’t been doing yourself. A tattoo!” She made it sound as if he’d decided to do heroin for shits and giggles. 

“I look after myself,” he protested, though he knew he shouldn’t have. She would never believe him. Never. “I have a job. I make money, I pay bills, I do all of that adult sh--stuff. I’m not dead or dying.”

“You know, you’re never going to have a wife if you’re covered in those nasty tattoos,” she said, as if she had blocked out everything Eddie had just said. If only she knew...

Eddie snorted. Finding a wife was not on the top of his priority list. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem, ma.”

“You’ll be thirty before you know it, young man!” she said, shaking her head disapproving. “Young boys living like bachelors, it isn’t healthy.” She hadn’t stopped shaking her head. “Before you know it, people start to talk, and then where will you be? You’re lucky I’m still around to look after you -- who else would?”

“How about that lasagna?” Eddie attempted to distract her, and as soon as she’d turned around he put his face into his hands. Jesus fucking Christ. How many days -- if not weeks -- of this was he going to have to endure? He’d hoped she’d lay off him, considering he was an adult, but no. Apparently his mother still thought he was a ten-year-old who had no idea what was good for him. 

She set the plate of lasagna on the table for him, looking at him expectantly. “Thank you, ma,” he said, which was apparently what she wanted to hear. He didn’t know how he was going to eat this. He wished he had just gotten a hotel, stayed at that little townhouse he passed after he had saved that guy from being beaten up.

His mind wandered to that situation again. Derry really hadn’t changed since he left. He didn’t know what he had expected, but he was glad he could intervene before anything too bad happened to… Richie. That was his name. He was cute. Not usually Eddie’s type, but the way he looked at him in absolute awe was so endearing. 

“Aren’t you going to eat your dinner, Eddiebear?” His mother had sat down across from him, and he took a breath. If he could stop a guy from bleeding to death in the middle of a Costco parking lot, he could eat a fucking plate of lasagna. 

“And Lucille from next door, she had to have heart surgery,  _ again _ ,” his mother said as he ate. “Can you believe that? They installed a pacemaker for her, but I told her, I told her they were only trying to get more money out of her. That poor woman!” 

Eddie hummed non-committedly. His mother had always been like this. Talking as if she knew everything. Gossipping like no tomorrow. Making assumptions like nobody’s business. He hadn’t missed that, either. She’d probably burst a vessel if she knew what his job was. 

“So, I’m going to need your help boxing everything up,” Sonia said after she had told him what practically everyone in Derry was doing. His lasagna wasn’t even half eaten.

“We can sell a lot of it, can’t we?” Eddie asked. There was no reason his mother would need all his little knick knacks or his old clothes and shoes. 

“Why would we do that?” She asked, “Those are  _ your _ things, Eddiebear.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” he shrugged, “I don’t need all of that anymore. It barely fits me anymore, anyway.” That was probably a lie. He hadn’t grown that much, if at all, since high school.

“I kept it all for you, Eddiebear,” his mother said, sounding petulant. 

“You didn’t have to.” He had his own clothes, his own bed; hell, he barely remembered what he’d left behind. He’d packed whatever he could fit into two bags, and that had been it. He didn’t call his mother until he’d already left Maine, and even now he’d never shared his actual address with her. She only knew he lived in Ohio. “That’s too far away!” she told him once he’d found a place. “Come back home!”

But he’d kept strong, not giving in to her demands. It helped that he only called her from a phone booth, so she didn’t have his number. He’d done everything he could to keep her away from him; the only reason he still called was to make sure she didn’t call the police to report him as missing. 

Just when he was starting to feel actually like he had most of his life under control, though, she was calling him back about wanting to move out of Derry. And he figured he’d be pretty heartless if he didn’t help her. She had some of his stuff that he’d still want, she said.

Now, sitting across from her, he regretted even considering it. He was so deeply uncomfortable that he was nauseous. All of this just reminded him of a time that he had tried really hard to forget. Turns out no matter the amount of alcohol you drink, it was impossible to truly forget the abuse you suffered by your mother.

“You must hate me,” Sonia said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You don’t eat my food, you don’t want to come visit me, you don’t want to help me.”

“I  _ do _ want to help you, ma, I just--”

“I don’t care to hear your excuses,” she said. “You’re doing all the things I told you not to, getting in trouble--I can’t even think about how  _ dirty _ you must be. What’s in your blood after that tattoo. I don’t even recognize you anymore!”

Eddie sighed, and shoved his plate away from him. “I doubt you ever knew who I was, ma. You only ever saw what you wanted to see.” He knew he was gambling with his retort, but he’d only been here for an hour at the most, and he already felt stretched to his limit. 

“You don’t talk to your mother like that, Edward Kaspbrak!” 

He imagined her yelling at him to go to his room, and that he was grounded for the rest of the month, no, the rest of the  _ year _ ! She definitely would have done that if he’d still been in school. In fact, she  _ had _ done it. Instead, she just stared at him intensely and her shoulders shook slightly. “What?” Eddie said, really pushing his luck. “It’s true, isn’t it? It’s not like you care about who I am if it doesn’t fit your expectations.” He stood up, taking his plate to the garbage and dumping the contents into it. He was going to puke if he didn’t.

Without waiting for a reply, he made his way back upstairs. He wanted to get out of the house, and he only needed to grab his wallet and a jacket. He wasn’t going to stick around, and wait to see if his mother had a sudden change of heart. Of course she wouldn’t. She never did.

Within minutes, he was back downstairs. “Don’t wait up for me,” he said. “I can find the key outside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again for reading! we'll continue to update regularly. comments/kudos appreciate, as always.


	3. Derry's Hottest Club Is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi all, robin here, thanks for reading so far! we really appreciate the comments and kudos, they're our lifeblood :) the boys meet up again this chapter, which richie is really really pleased about. (so are we. their interactions are super fun to write.)

Richie sipped on his old-fashioned slowly, knowing that it was probably his last for the night, unless he got someone to buy him a drink. He had talked to a few guys, but this place was nowhere near full, and it was mostly couples anyway. He definitely wasn’t making himself more approachable by looking as sad as he felt.

He didn’t come to this place often--it was Derry’s only gay bar, and it was not heavily populated. He didn’t even think Derry had more than ten gay people. Even less that were comfortable being out about it. But he needed somewhere to drink his feelings away, and he did not want to end up in a bar that Preston or Peter or Pierce or whatever the fuck his name was would also be. His angel on a motorbike wouldn’t be there to save him, he wouldn’t get that lucky twice. So he sat at the counter, occasionally exchanging glances with the bartender, who would return them sympathetically. He prayed for a miracle, for someone to come in and sit next to him and just  _ talk _ , he didn’t even need the drinks at this point. He was just lonely.

He’d been sitting at the bar for a while, letting his chin rest on his hand. He was about as approachable as a cactus right now, his mood at its lowest point so far this week. He rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses, wondering if he should call it a night. Maybe if he could’ve taken his mind off things for a bit tonight, he might have felt better in the morning. But at this point, he was only sitting here to give himself a hangover, or an imitation of one, in any case.

He was going to finish his drink, he told himself, and then go home. Ha. Home. Another joke the universe had played on him. 

Richie was going to do exactly that, until someone sat down next to him. He looked up, expecting to see one of the guys from before, who were sitting in the back, wanting to order a drink. 

“Hi,” Eddie said. Richie nearly slid off his stool. 

“Oh!” Richie couldn’t say anything aside from that for a few moments. “It-It’s you! Um, you… you were the one who saved me today!” He knew his name. Why wasn’t he saying his name? “Wow! As I live and breathe, right?”

Eddie laughed. “Hi. Richie, right?”

“Yes! Yes, of course. Richie. And you’re Eddie, right? I guess I expected you to have a tougher name. Like. I dunno. What’s a motorcycle name?  _ Keith _ . Something like that.” He was rambling, because he didn’t know what else to do around handsome people. It was like his brain was screaming at him to shut up, but his mouth was running a mile a minute, away from any sense of rationality. There was no way this was appealing.

But Eddie just laughed again. Richie didn’t get the sense that he was being laughed at, more like Eddie was genuinely amused by his words. “Yeah, I guess my name sounds pretty meek, or whatever. Take it up with my mom, I guess.”

“I like it, though!” Richie quickly said. “I really do. It suits you. It’s a… a handsome name.” Well, fuck. Way to be upfront, Richie. What the fuck did that even mean, a handsome name?

“I’m glad you like it. I like your name, too. Is it short for Richard?” Before Richie could respond, Eddie flagged down the bartender, asking for two old-fashioneds. “One for me and my friend here,” he explained.

“Oh, we’re friends now?” Richie asked.

“Who wouldn’t want to be your friend, after having to save your cute ass?” Eddie winked, and Richie instantly felt his cheeks grow hot. 

“I, uh--” he said. “It is short for Richard,” he continued, because he was going to embarrass himself otherwise. He just knew it. “But no one calls me that. Not even my parents.”

The bartender put their glasses down in front of them, and Richie gratefully took a sip. Christ, had his confidence sunk into the floor, along with his ability to make sense?

“Well,  _ Richard _ ,” Eddie said, very deliberately. “Pleased to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you too. I mean, is. I’m not leaving yet.” Well, he had been about to, but it wasn’t as if Eddie had to know that. He could change his mind, couldn’t he?

“I’m glad you’re not,” Eddie replied. “I thought, y’know, you save a guy from getting the shit beat out of him, you should get to know him. Right?” He smirked. Actually fucking  _ smirked _ . Richie was a goner.

“That sounds like a good philosophy to me. Unless you say that to every guy you save.”

Eddie took a small sip. “Don’t tell anyone, but you were my first.”

Richie’s eyebrows shot up, though he didn’t know why it was such a surprise. “W-Wow. Well, I’m...honored, I think!”

“You should be,” Eddie said, leaning in just a bit closer to Richie, who could practically feel the heat radiating off him. Or maybe he was just sweating. That was more likely. “Are you holding up alright?”

“I’m fine, I think,” Richie shrugged, “No broken bones, no bruises.” Except on his ass. Again, not necessary to say. 

“Guys like that, they bother you often?” To Richie’s surprise, Eddie took an active interest in him. He wasn’t simply checking up, and then going off to swoop some other guy off his feet. (Although, if he was, Richie wasn’t going to complain -- he’d already gotten a drink out of this, and that was more than he’d expected of this night.)

“Oh, yeah,” Richie said, sardonically. “They’re everywhere in Derry. It’s like they sprout out of the ground, fully formed. Must be the water I guess.”

Eddie snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that.”

“At least you got out.” Richie drummed his fingers on the countertop. “I mean, you didn’t move back here, right? Because I’d tell you to run while you still can.”

“No, I’m not moving back. I’m here for… family,” he said, suddenly looking down into his glass. Something told Richie that Eddie was about as happy to be here as him. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ll hopefully be out of here as soon as I can be.”

Richie was equal parts happy and sad. Happy that they got to meet in the first place, and happy that Eddie actually had a home outside of this shithole. But also kind of sad, because he wouldn’t have minded talking to Eddie every day. It would have been nice to be able to talk to someone at all.

But he was getting ahead of himself, big time.

“Good luck,” Richie settled on, “I wish I could say the same, but… money, y’know?”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie nodded, “I remember those days. I went to bed so many nights without food in my system at all, but that was the price I paid for running off and never looking back. ‘Til now, I guess,” he chuckled bitterly. “You’ll make it. Don’t worry.”

He wasn’t so sure of that, but it was nice to hear somebody was convinced he could. “Are you this nice all the time?”

“What, a guy rides a motorcycle and you think he’s automatically some big scary asshole?” Eddie nudged his arm, and it felt electric to Richie. “I think I’m a fairly polite person most of the time.”

Richie looked down at Eddie’s arm, the one that had just made contact with his (which he would be internally screaming over for… hours, probably), raising an eyebrow. “You’ve got tattoos,” he commented, ignoring everything Eddie had just said.

“And you have eyes,” Eddie replied. “Yeah. I got them pretty soon after I moved out. Well, I got one, and then it was like… I just wanted more. It can be addicting. Don’t do tattoos, kids.”

“Are you calling me a kid?” Richie said, mostly joking.

“I don’t know,” Eddie said, looking him up and down. “You’re old enough to drink, aren’t you? Make a guess.”

“Well, you’re not in this fine establishment looking for babysitting opportunities,” Richie said. Eddie laughed. “So, how many do you have? You make it sound like you’re completely inked under your shirt.”

“Not completely. I’ve got a few hidden away.” He took another sip. “Who knows, Richard from Derry. Maybe, if you play your cards right, you can count them yourself.”

Richie bit down on his lower lip. Hard. He was not expecting Eddie to be so straightforward, but on the other hand, why wouldn’t he be? What did he have to lose? “I… I’d like that,” he said, meaning it despite the hesitant tone in his voice. “I’ll have to warn you that I’m pretty boring, though, in terms of the tattoo department. My pasty white skin is completely clean.” Wow. He was really selling himself here, huh?

“Don’t worry, I don’t care about that.” Eddie smiled. “I thought you were cute from the moment I saw you, the fact that you’re ‘pasty white’ is not going to change that.”

Richie gulped down the rest of his drink. He needed it. “You did, really? I was… not in the cutest of situations.”

“Well, that’s true. But once I got you up off the ground and got a good look at you… I dunno,” he shrugged nonchalantly, as if this was all just normal stuff you said to a guy you barely knew. Well, maybe it was normal for  _ him _ , but for Richie this was completely new. “I wanted to stick around and look at you more.” Eddie gave Richie a once over, his eyebrows slightly raised.

Richie had never in his life been flirted with so openly. “I, uh. I like the look of you, too,” he admitted. He was trying hard not to blush again, but failed miserably. “You were-- I really--”

“I’m glad we’re not wasting each other’s time,” Eddie said, then tilted his head to the exit. “You want to get out of here?”

Richie nearly choked on his drink. “You mean, like…?”

“Like anything,” Eddie said. “I’m on my bike. We can drive around. I could drop you off. Whatever you want.”

“Oh,” Richie said. And then, “I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before.”

Eddie smiled. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to do anything, except hold on tight.”

“I can do that,” Richie said quickly. The thought of it nearly made him lightheaded, but he was  _ not _ about to pass up on this opportunity. “You sure you don’t wanna finish your drink? There’s still a little left? Oh, I guess you have to drive…”

“Yeah. Also,” Eddie leaned in to whisper this, his lips close to Richie’s ear and his breath hot on his skin. “The drinks here are shitty.”

Richie laughed nervously. “Yeah. They kind of are, aren’t they? Let’s go.” He fished around in his pockets for his wallet, but Eddie reached a (tattooed) arm out to stop him. 

“My treat.”

Okay, so Eddie was  _ absolutely _ an angel. Maybe there was a God, and he had heard Richie praying for a miracle. “Thank you so much… if we ever… again, I’ll…”

“Shh,” Eddie said gently, “Don’t worry about it.” He threw some bills on the counter and made his way to the door, his hand resting lightly on Richie’s back.

Richie had gone to the bar, hoping that he wouldn’t end up alone. Before tonight, he always had. Having Eddie show up out of nowhere was… It felt kind of great, actually. Somebody actually wanted him. Eddie’s hand was warm against his back, and he held the door open for him. Eddie hadn’t been wrong when he said he was polite. He was practically a gentleman. With tattoos, but still. 

“I’ve got an extra helmet,” Eddie said, as they came to a stop by his bike. He pulled open a compartment on the bike Richie hadn’t seen, and handed Richie a helmet. “Make sure the strap is tight, I don’t want to be responsible for any decapitations tonight.”

Richie awkwardly laughed. Eddie raised his eyebrows, and he put the helmet over his head. With some help from Eddie, he managed to set it on straight, before Eddie put his own helmet on. “Sit behind me, and hold on tight,” he instructed before swinging his leg over the seat. Richie was going a little weak in the knees. Eddie patted the seat behind him, and Richie took the invitation, sliding on, and wrapping an arm around Eddie. Eddie firmly put a hand on his wrist and pulled him closer. “As tight as possible,” he said. “You good to go?”

“I’m good,” he called out. The engine of the motorcycle came roaring to life, and something inside Richie’s stomach decided to do the same.

It was a strange sensation at first, to be on a motorcycle. It was almost like a ride at the fair, the way he felt the wind blowing around him and saw nothing but a blurry, dark sky. He was trembling a bit , from the nerves and the new feeling, but he quickly settled into it, holding onto Eddie even tighter. He was warm, and from what Richie could feel under that leather jacket, his body was pretty toned, despite being so lean. Richie had  _ not _ expected the night to go like this, not in a million years, but he would never complain. He’d never even consider it.

They drove through town (which was mostly empty) for a while, Eddie eventually slowing down as they came to a small park. Richie remembered going there as a kid, goofing off and getting dirty with the few friends he had, and getting caught smoking cigarettes there in high school. He hadn’t been back in ages. “You wanna just hang here for awhile?” Eddie asked, turning his head to see him as best as he could.   


“Sounds nice,” Richie practically shouted back.

Eddie killed the engine, and waited for Richie to clamber off before moving himself. Richie struggled with the strap for a bit, until Eddie reached out and undid it for him, having already taken his helmet off himself. “Can you tell I’ve never done this before?” Richie joked.

“It’s everyone’s first time at some point,” Eddie replied, and briefly Richie wondered if they were still talking about riding motorcycles. “C’mon.” He held his hand out to Richie, and pulled him along. “It’s been so long since I’ve been here, but it all still looks the same.”

“Things don’t change in Derry,” Richie said, allowing himself to be pulled down onto the grass. “And when they do, they get worse, not better.”

“Sounds about right.” Eddie had let go of his hand, in favour of putting his hands under his head to look up at the stars. “It’s not too bad when there’s no one around, though, right? I mean, aside from people I want to be around. Like you.” 

Richie was glad Eddie wasn’t looking at him, because he was blushing like a dork again. “I used to come here a lot when I was a kid. Me and my friends--not that I had that many--we’d hang around here and try so hard to look cool.”

“My mom rarely let me out of the house,” Eddie said, “But I wonder if we ever saw each other. That would be funny, huh?”

Thoughts of destiny and serendipity crossed Richie’s mind, but he had to stop himself. He had been getting ahead of himself a lot tonight. He turned his gaze from the sky to Eddie, observing the side profile of his face in the dim light. “See something you like?” Eddie asked, and Richie quickly looked away. “You can look at me, Richie. You don’t have to be so shy, as cute as it is. I’m flattered you wanna look at me.”

“I just…” Richie pulled up his glasses, letting them rest on his forehead. “You grew up here, too, you know what Derry’s like. I know people like to pretend we’re just regular Small Town America, but… it’s not. Derry’s always been worse than that. You know that bar we met in? When they opened it, the windows got smashed in repeatedly, among other stuff. It’s a miracle people even go there at all. Derry’s not exactly friendly to people like-- me.”

“Like us,” Eddie inferred. Richie nodded quietly. “It’s been a while, I guess. But I remember. You can take the boy out of the small town, but you can’t take the small town out of the boy. Right?”

Richie pushed his glasses down again. “I guess I’m just not used to it. I’m more used to keeping it on the down low, you know? I get enough shit as it is.”

“D’you want me to stop?” Eddie asked.

“No. You just surprised me. People generally aren’t that straightforward around here, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like it.”

“I guess I just didn’t want to waste time,” he said. “And you’re just too cute to resist. You know that, right?”

“People don’t really call me cute.” Richie laughed softly. “Not since I was a kid, but even then there was a point where I stopped being cute and started being obnoxious.”

“That’s what sucks about growing up, I guess,” Eddie said. “But then again, I was happy to grow up. My mom, uh...I don’t wanna get into it. But let’s just say once I turned 18 and she couldn’t keep me there any longer, I went as far away as I could.”

Richie didn’t want to ask any intrusive questions, even though he was really curious. “How did you feel, when you left?”

“Fucking amazing. I was high on freedom. That’s when I got all these,” he said, gesturing to his arm tattoos. “As you know. And I got my motorcycle license on a whim. I never used to do shit on a whim before. It was like I became a different person, in a way. I mean, I’m still fundamentally me, just… new qualities, things I had hidden, came out. Y’know, like this.” He gestured between the two of them, hoping Richie could understand what he meant.

Richie rolled onto his side, holding his head up with his hand, leaning on his elbow. “I didn’t come out to my folks until I was living on my own,” he admitted. “I wanted to, and they were good about it -- unlike others -- but this place gets under your skin. I thought they’d disown me. Or maybe worse.”

Eddie pulled his hands out from under his head, putting them on his stomach. From this angle, Richie could see the shimmer of light in his eyes. Richie wanted nothing more than lean closer and kiss him, but… “I get it,” Eddie said. “All these years I’ve been gone, I was finally able to be who I really am, but as soon as I’m back,” he snapped his fingers, “it’s like a switch has been flipped.”

“Man, we’re messed up,” Richie said, sighing deeply. 

“I don’t think so,” Eddie said. “Not us. Just this place.”

“I’ve felt pretty messed up all day, but maybe--no, I know you’re right.”

“Messed up because of what that guy did?” 

Richie gave another sigh. “Well, that’s part of it. I lost my job, I have barely any money to my name, and, oh! I’m getting fucking evicted from my apartment! Because I didn’t make enough money at my shitty job, and I was late in my payments too many times! So… yeah. Messed up is the only way I can describe it.” He frowned up at the sky, realizing how unappealing this sounded. Again, he was not selling himself well here. He sounded like an absolute loser.

“You’re not a loser.” Richie turned his head -- fuck, had he said that out loud. “I’m not saying it doesn’t suck, but-- not having anything doesn’t make you a loser. I had nothing when I left Derry. I hitchhiked my way out of the state. I did what I had to do to survive. I don’t think I can do much about your money situation, but,” he leaned up, and softly pressed a kiss to Richie’s mouth. “I can tell you it’ll get better. Maybe not now. Maybe not even soon. But it will.”

Richie was left speechless. Of  _ course _ Eddie would kiss him when he least expected it. And he didn’t even have enough time to process and appreciate it. “I think things will get a little bit better if you kiss me again like that.” He said. “I-I mean… if you want. If you don’t want to, no pressure, y’know.”

“I think I want to,” Eddie said, pulling Richie down for another kiss. Richie’s eyes fluttered closed and he placed a hand on the other man’s (surprisingly soft) cheek. Eddie’s hand tangled in Richie’s curly hair as he deepened the kiss. Richie couldn’t think of something more romantic than this; being kissed under the stars by a handsome guy who had listened to him and told him he  _ wasn’t _ a loser. 

Maybe it hadn’t been such a terrible day after all.


	4. She Said It Like It Was True (Even When I Knew It Wasn't)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, deedee again. thanks for all the support this fic is getting so far! i hope that you continue to enjoy it!

Eddie had no idea what time it was by the time he stumbled back onto his mother’s front porch, but there still was a key under the doormat, so it made no difference to him. He’d safely parked the bike in the garage, and slung his helmet over his arm. He locked the door behind him. He was certain his mother had to be asleep by now, but he walked upstairs quietly anyway. He had no interest in a lecture in the middle of the night.

Only when he closed the door to his former bedroom behind him did he feel he could breathe a little again. He took off his shoesand settled on the rickety desk chair by the bed. Most of his frustration and anger had evaporated during the night. He’d gone for a drive, and come across the club on his way back, and figured no harm would be done by stepping inside. It hadn’t; the opposite had been true.

Still, being in his childhood bedroom wasn’t exactly comforting. Being alone, in the place that he had spent a miserable, lonely childhood made a vaguely nauseous feeling creep up in his stomach. When he was with Richie, he hadn’t felt that way. Things were comfortable between them, and he had opened up to Richie about things that he hadn’t even told some of his friends back home. He was easy to talk to, and probably even easier to kiss, considering how once they started kissing, they hadn’t talked much more.

He heard footsteps approach his door, and his shoulders tensed. “Eddie?” His mother asked, her voice groggy. “Is that you?” What was she doing up at one in the morning?

“Yes, ma. Just going to bed.”

“Who do you think you are, mister, coming in at all hours? This is still  _ my _ house,” she said, and he heard the door start to creak open. 

“I can get a hotel,” he said, thinking quickly. He looked over his shoulder at his mother, standing in the door opening. “If you’d prefer that.”

“Nonsense. You belong here with me, Eddie. But as long as you’re here, you’re supposed to abide by my rules. I was worried about you all night!”

“You didn’t have to wait up for me. I asked you not to.” He debated getting up. “I just needed to get out for a bit.”

“But you only just got here! And face your mother while I’m speaking, sweetie.” He slowly turned around in his chair, feeling twelve all over again. “Next time you go out, I want you home by ten. And don’t make that face at me, young man.”

He bit his tongue to keep himself from saying something he’d regret. “Fine, ma,” he said, resigning himself. It’d only be for a little while. If he really couldn’t stand it anymore, he could spend the night in a hotel room.

“When you get married, you can’t act like this. You can’t go out all night and do God knows what. In fact, you’ll never find a wife if you continue like this. Do you want to be alone forever, with no woman to love you?” She asked. “Look at me when I talk to you.”

Eddie reluctantly made eye contact with her. He didn’t know why  _ she _ was talking about marriage; she hadn’t been married since his father had died, when Eddie was three. “I’m only 25, Ma, marriage isn’t exactly a pressing issue.”

“You say that now, but then ten years pass and you’ll have no one. Don’t you want to fall in love with a nice girl, Eddie?”

He was pretty sure she was projecting. “No, I don’t. Not really.”

He hadn’t exactly  _ meant _ to say that, but then again, it was late, he was tired, and he wanted this conversation to be over. On the other hand, maybe he should’ve just nodded along and mumbled his consent. She liked that. Unfortunately, Eddie did not. Not anymore.

His mother’s expression had gotten pinched, colour rising in her cheeks. “You don’t mean that, Eddiebear! Every young man wants that, and that includes you! Before you know it, you’ll be too old to give me grandchildren!”

“And if I don’t want kids?” If he was digging his own grave, he might as well get out the heavy machinery.

“You’re too young to make a decision like that,” she dismissively said. “You know what, Lucille has a daughter your age, I can invite her for lunch tomorrow. Maybe you’ll like her!”

“Ma! I don’t want to talk to Lucille’s daughter! I don’t want to talk to anyone’s daughter!”

“Why? What’s wrong with being in a relationship, or getting married?”

Eddie exhaled out of his nose. “It’s not the whole getting married thing, it’s to  _ who _ .”

His mother looked confused. “If you don’t want to give Lucille’s daughter a chance--”

“Ma!  _ I don’t like women! _ ” He nearly shouted, wondering if he could get it through her head. “Is that enough for you?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Eddiebear,” she stated, “I’m sure you simply haven’t met the right woman yet. I will call Lucille in the morning--”

“I’m gay,” he said, interrupting her. “I don’t want to be with a woman, any woman. Doesn’t matter how nice she is.” He took another deep breath, and continued before she could interrupt him, which he was sure she would any second now. “I like men. I always have. I can even marry one if I want.”

“You’re not  _ sick _ , Eddiebear,” she said, giving him a look some writers would probably describe as haunted. He’d describe it as disgusted. “I  _ will _ call Lucille in the morning, and you  _ will _ have a nice chat with her daughter. And that’s that. Now go to bed, sweetie, it’s late.” She shut the door behind her before he could put another word in, and he sighed.

She was right, he  _ wasn’t _ sick. Eddie knew that, though the look on her face certainly made him feel that way. He laid down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He’d talk to Lucille’s daughter, sure, but he wouldn’t give her the impression that he was into her. He’d be nice and friendly, but not flirty. He wouldn’t even know  _ how _ to flirt with her. He rolled over on his stomach and groaned into the pillow. He needed to get out of here. He was starting to regret ever considering coming back -- but then he thought of Richie.

So far, Richie had been the only good thing about coming back. His messy hair and blue eyes made Eddie want to look at him forever. And they had had such a nice night together -- the nicest Eddie had had with a guy in a while. It didn’t feel right to pack his shit as soon as possible and leave Derry without many more words to him. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. Wanting to leave his past behind, but somehow also finding a semblance of the future. Of course this would happen. In Derry, of all places.

He decided to try and get some sleep. It was pointless to leave now, whether he was skipping town or booking a night at a hotel, and he was on his bed already anyway. He could deal with his mother later. In the morning. When he wasn’t as tired and had managed to put his scrambled thoughts into a somewhat coherent order. 

As long as he was here, he’d have to hear about it, he already knew. Maybe he should’ve made up a girlfriend. Or asked a colleague to pretend to be his. It was stupid, and silly, he knew that, but the only way he ever got around his mother was by lying, and if the method hadn’t broken, why try to fix it? 

He sighed into his pillow. It smelled like laundry detergent. Everything in this room smelled lightly of cleaning product. He crawled under the sheets and forced his eyes closed. Deal with one thing at a time, he told himself. Before he knew it, he’d be riding out of here, leaving this life behind for good.

He must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because the next time he opened his eyes, his mother was knocking on the door, asking what he wanted for breakfast.

“Anything is fine, ma,” he said, voice groggy. He was sure he wouldn’t eat much of it anyway. He made a mental checklist of things that he wanted to do today. Pack most of his stuff, some to keep and some to take to the second-hand shop. He’d have to make sure his mother didn’t see him taking his things there, or she’d run after him and try to rescue his things from the bargain bin. 

He’d probably stay in town for most of the day, avoiding home as much as he could. Maybe he’d see Richie again, or he could go see  _ him _ … though he didn’t know where Richie lived. What was he supposed to do, look for the apartment door with an eviction notice on it? He had been so wrapped up in conversation and Richie’s lips last night that he had forgotten to get his phone number.

Not wanting to waste any more time in bed, he got up and threw a shirt on--long-sleeved this time. He didn’t need to hear any more comments out of his mother. Once he was dressed to her standards, he walked into the kitchen. “Your hair looks terribly messy,” she said. Of course. There was always  _ something _ to criticize. “But at least you’re dressed well. Maybe if you meet Lucille’s daughter today, she’ll think you look handsome.”

“I’ll brush my hair after breakfast,” he said, ignoring her other commentary. He didn’t mention that he hoped Lucille’s daughter, whatever her name was, would find him a huge turn off, or, even better, be a huge lesbian herself. That’d be great. Knowing his luck, that was not how it would go.

He took a sip from his coffee and nearly spat it out. What was  _ in _ there? 

At least he managed to eat the toast, and a bowl of yogurt, because it was pretty hard to mess those up. Even by someone like his mother, who’d cooked out of a box for as long as he could remember. 

“I’ll start cleaning up my things in my old bedroom,” he said, after finishing breakfast. “If you need any more help around the house, please tell me.” The last thing he wanted was for her to fall off a stepstool, after which he’d have to look after her. Although that would probably delight her, having Eddie around all the time.

“Thank you, Eddiebear. How are you going to fit all your clothes on your motorcycle?” 

Eddie swallowed. He certainly wasn’t going to tell her the truth. “I’ve got special boxes that’ll fit back there, don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

“Young people always think they know what they’re doing,” she said, but let him go. 

When he opened his closet, it was like looking at the clothes of another person. Most of these polos were pretty small, and they’d make him look like a yuppie asshole who shopped exclusively at The Gap. He took a large pile of them and threw them on the bed. He had no desire to keep them. There were some button-ups he thought he could keep for if he ever had a dressy event. And the shorts--why the hell did he have so many shorts? It wasn’t like he went outside a lot as a kid. He picked up a pair of red athletic shorts, wondering what they would look like on him now. He laughed thinking about it and imagining Richie’s face when he saw him, which would probably be as red as the shorts.

From the clothes he’d taken out, there was only a very small pile that he wanted to keep. The rest would go to a thrift store or some other place that would take second hand clothes. He’d changed a lot, hadn’t he? He threw the shorts on the bed as well and ran a hand through his hair. These days, he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing most of this. Then again, his mother had bought most, if not all of his clothes, so he could be forgiven for being an atrocious dresser at age 15. 

He spotted a bright red item underneath a jacket that had fallen off a hanger, and lifted it up. Well, damn, it had been a while since he’d seen one of these. A fanny pack. His red one. He shook it, snorting when he heard rattling inside. By the sound of it, it had never been emptied. 

The contents weren’t that varied. There were two nearly empty pill bottles, a pack of half-used tissues, and… an inhaler. When was the last time he’d used one of those? He couldn’t even remember. He didn’t really have “asthma attacks” anymore, not since he learned that those were actually panic attacks. When he had gone to a doctor in Cleveland for a new inhaler and described his symptoms, the doctor had looked at him sympathetically and explained that his lungs were fine, but he clearly had some anxiety issues. Eddie wondered why he hadn’t seen it sooner, but it was kind of hard to think of it as anything other than asthma after his mom had pounded that idea into his head for years.

The asthma hadn’t been the only thing. She’d always come up with new illnesses, new diseases, new symptoms, and every little thing had a pill. He wasn’t sure how much medication he’d swallowed through his childhood, but he knew it was more than most people saw in their lifetime. His mother hadn’t simply been overbearing and overprotective, she’d gone through extreme measures to make sure he stayed dependent on her, including filling his head with lies about what a weak, fragile boy he was.

Considering he went to the gym weekly without any issues whatsoever, he figured it had all been a pile of bullshit. Like most things that came out of her mouth. He pocketed the inhaler so he could throw it in the garbage as soon as he left the house; if she saw it in one of the garbage bins in the house, she’d freak out. 

He didn’t know how much longer he could stay in this room without starting to feel sick again, so he started packing the unwanted clothes into boxes quickly. He knew as soon as he dropped them off at the second-hand shop, a weight would be lifted off his shoulders. These clothes represented a different time in his life.

He loaded the boxes onto the back of his motorcycle as best as he could, knowing he was getting dangerously close to overfilling it, but he really didn’t want to spend much longer on all this shit. 

By the time he got back, he knew his mother would be getting ready for his “lunch date” (he groaned internally), so he was going to grab any bit of freedom he could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated. sorry if this chapter was a bit of a bummer. things will get better soon! xoxox


	5. Help Is Just a Phone Call Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we go, chapter five in this continued epic. thanks for the continued support, y'all, comments (and kudos!) make our lives a 1000% per cent better. seeing a (1) in our inbox makes our heart go soft, so thank you <3

Richie only had a few more days in his apartment before he had to get the hell out of there. He had been slowly, begrudgingly working on packing the little that he had into boxes, when he wasn’t out looking for a job, or getting saved by handsome guys on motorcycles.

He was surprised at how Eddie pretty much dominated his thoughts. The evening they had spent together in the park was so unlike anything Richie had ever done before, not that he had gone on all that many dates to begin with. He didn’t know when the last time was that he had opened up to someone like that or felt so  _ heard _ by someone. Of course, he had been a goddamn idiot and forgotten to ask for the guy’s phone number.

That was just like him, too. His mother often told him if his ass wasn’t attached to his body, he’d forget that too.

Still, it had provided a nice distraction, a reminder that good people still existed, even in this god awful town. Not that it had helped much with the whole finding a place to stay, and finding a place to work, but it had lifted his spirits. He didn’t feel as desperate anymore -- even though he probably should be with the eviction looming over his head. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t have a lot of people to rely on here. The first person he would have (and should have) called was Stan, but Stan lived in Georgia, and right now that felt like it was on the other side of the planet. Even if Stan had wanted to help, he wouldn’t have been able to. Not from there. So Richie hadn’t called, because even if he needed support, he didn’t want to worry his friends. They’d been at the receiving end of his phone calls where he complained about his job and Derry enough times that they should get a break. 

He supposed he could call his parents, though disappointing them was the last thing he wanted to do. He already  _ had _ , by not going to college. He got such good grades in school, they were utterly baffled when he admitted to them that college sounded like a nightmare. 

“But why would you throw your future away like that?” his mother had said, her face a picture of disappointment.

“I’m not,” he had tried to tell them. “I just don’t think it’s for me.”

They had said he could get into a really good school, and easily be one of the top in his class, but that was the life they wanted for him, not the life he wanted. 

No, Richie had set his sights on becoming a comedian, having a stage presence, being funny and actually getting paid for it.

His parents had not been impressed.

After that, they insisted he move out if he was going to do that instead of going to school. He would have to support himself. Richie had wondered if they were trying to teach him a lesson about how fickle the entertainment industry could be. At the end of the day,they were just waiting for him to come back and tell them they were right. 

Several years down the line, he was just as close to achieving his dream as he had been when graduating high school, except more broke, more tired, and more cynical. He should’ve left Derry the moment he could have, even if it had just been with the clothes on his back, the money in his pockets -- but he hadn’t wanted to do that to his parents. He hadn’t wanted to be the subject of a news report -- hitchhiker found murdered in ditch -- and so he’d stayed. As stupid as it seemed, in hindsight. And now, he’d hate to admit that his parents had been right.

Then again, Richie had never been great at making decisions that worked out well for his future, so it could join the long lists of ‘Things I should have done, but didn’t’ and ‘Reasons why I’m an idiot’. 

With most of his meager belongings boxed, he felt like he was left with no other choice. He hadn’t wanted to -- had sworn not to as soon as he’d moved out -- but maybe calling his parents was his best bet. He scowled at the phone as he dialed his mother’s number.

“Hello?” she answered after a few rings.

“Hey, mom. So…” He was fully prepared to lay it all out on the table, to come clean and admit that he was royally fucked. He pictured the look on his mom’s face when she heard the news, and his heart sank. He had already disappointed her enough, hadn’t he? He let out a slow exhale. He couldn’t do this. Maybe he was just a coward, but he couldn’t do this. “Sorry. I guess I just thought I should call you. Haven’t talked in awhile.”

“Aww, you’re a dear.” Her voice brightened. “How are you doing? How’s work? Nothing too exciting happening here. You  _ could _ visit more.”

Richie chuckled mirthlessly. “I guess I could. Work is fine. It’s boring.” That part was true, it had been boring. And soul-sucking.

“Made any new friends? I worry, I guess. I know all the kids you used to hang out with moved away.”

_ Yeah, yeah, and I didn’t because I’m a failure, _ he thought. “I guess I’ve met some people here and there.”

“Tell me more,” she said, because she couldn’t help but pry a little. “What kind of people? Co-workers?”

“No,” he said, feeling a bit uneasy. “I guess I… well, I met a guy.”

“A guy, huh?” In his mind, he could see her raise her eyebrows. “Is he cute?” 

“Yeah,” he said.

“When are we meeting him?” she asked.

“Mom!” 

She laughed. “I’m joking, honey. Take your time. If you want to wait until you’re thirty to bring a boy home, we’re fine with that!”

He felt himself flush. “He’s… It’s not serious. I just…”

“I know my son well enough to know what he sounds like when he likes someone,” she said. “Otherwise you would’ve told me ten times over how hot he is by now.” 

Richie groaned. “He’s not from Derry,” he said, “I mean, he is, but he doesn’t live here. So.”

“Ah,” she said, understanding “Is he leaving soon?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

“Best take what you can get, then,” she said, teasingly. “Go get ‘im, tiger.”

“I can’t believe my own mother just said that.”

“That’s why I’m your mom,” Maggie Tozier brightly said. “I’m glad you called, baby. I’m glad to hear you’re doing okay.”

“Yeah, I-- I’m doing fine.” He swallowed heavily around the lump in his throat. He couldn’t remember a time in his life where he was  _ less _ fine, but hurting his mother would just make everything worse. As long as she, and by extension his father, thought he was doing fine for himself, it was easier to deny his life was spiralling out of control.

“And you know you can come by anytime, right? I know your father misses you, too. He’ll tell a dumb joke and it’s like he’s waiting for you to make a comment on it, but you’re not there.” She laughed a little. “He drives me crazy.”

“Like father, like son,” Richie replied. “I’ll talk to you later, mom.”

“You too. I love you! If anything happens with your mystery man, you call and tell me. Within reason. I don’t need  _ all _ the details.”

Richie touched his burning cheek. “Moooom,” he whined. 

“I know, I know. Talk to you soon, sweetie.”

“You, too, mom. Love you.” When Richie hung up, he wiped at the tears that were about to fall down his cheeks. They weren’t tears of sadness, moreso tears of anger at himself. He felt like an utter disappointment and a coward at the same time.

If he didn’t find anything in the next few days, he’d call back, he promised himself. He could do that. He could give himself more time. It didn’t make him feel better, though, because if his search was as fruitful as it had been the last few days, he’d still be in the same awkward position as he was now, except it might be even worse, because it meant he’d have no time left at all.

Maybe it was time he started looking for jobs that were a little more… unconventional. He grimaced. If no one in town was looking to hire, maybe he shouldn’t be looking there. He eyed his crappy laptop sitting on the mattress. His bed was already disassembled, so it was all he had left to sleep on. He chewed on his bottom lip for a bit before flipping open the lid, opening a search engine, and staring at the blinking cursor. Now what?

He typed in ‘finding a job’. 

A bunch of results came up with advice on how to update your CV, how to appear at a job interview, how to network. But nothing he could actually use. Finding a job as a search query probably wasn’t specific enough, he decided.

‘Working from home’, he tried next. He wrinkled his nose. Okay, most of those looked like complete bullshit, and the ones that didn’t were, predictably, porn advertisements. He fell back on the mattress. Maybe that was what he should do. Porn. Not that he had any idea how good he was at sex -- the few times fumbling around other guys’ dicks in public restrooms didn’t exactly count. Also, something told him that he didn’t really have porn star level looks. Not with his lanky frame and constantly unbrushed hair.

Maybe he could pretend to be a porn star? He bet he could do a pretty good fake orgasm, rivalling Sally’s dining room escapade in  _ When Harry Met Sally _ . He probably shouldn’t though. Especially not in a diner.

Richie shot up. The diner! He hadn’t asked there yet!

He stumbled off the mattress and tried to find his second sock, hopping around on one foot as he slid it on. It was pretty early still, so maybe, if he got super lucky, he could help out with the morning rush. 

He was out the door in less than five minutes, a new record.

Thirty minutes later, the diner door fell shut behind him, the bell clinging. No such luck for Richie Tozier. The owner had looked him up and down and shook his head -- and when Richie looked around, he could see why. The only other people working were girls, most younger than him, and all with an impressive rack. He had grumbled internally. This place wasn’t Hooters, but apparently the owner wanted to treat it like it was.

He leaned up against the wall of the building once he was outside, looking across the street. There was a second-hand store. He supposed he could sell some of his stuff. He had pairs of shoes he didn’t wear anymore, some shirts that didn’t fit well, and (he gulped) he was sure they’d take some of his records. Buying vinyl was trendy now. It was a last-ditch effort, but if he could walk away with some money in his pocket, he might feel a little better. So it was worth a try.

He started on his way home, wondering if the universe was playing some big, mean trick on him because of something mildly bad he did a few years ago.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t remember for the life of him. He just hoped his luck would turn around, because this? This sucked balls.


	6. Second Hand Rich(i)es

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi all, it's dee. as always, thanks for the comments and kudos, they really do fuel us. i hope you enjoy this chapter!

Eddie had been back in Derry for a week, which was about a week too long. Every day, there was something new that his mother had a problem with, adding to the list of things she disliked about her son’s new life. She reminded him about how dangerous his motorcycle was on a daily basis, how unappealing his tattoos were, how if he just found the  _ right girl _ to settle down with, he would be back to the Eddiebear she knew and loved. Well, if the ‘right girl’ existed, she sure didn’t live in fucking Derry.

He couldn’t stay in this house any longer. Even though he was clearing out his stuff, and his room and the house were becoming increasingly emptier, he still felt uncomfortable, like he should run away. He didn’t sleep well, and he was starting to have dreams that woke him up in the middle of the night, sweating. He couldn’t spend one more night here. He just couldn’t.

After breakfast, he scrolled through his phone after searching ‘Derry hotel’, trying to find a place that was affordable but not too much of a shithole. Why did Derry even have hotels, he wondered. Who the hell would visit here if they didn’t have family? It wouldn’t be for the Stand Pipe, or the Paul Bunyan statue. Or the Kenduskeag. Nobody would consider those worth visiting.

One of the first results he came across was a townhouse. He was pretty sure that wasn’t there when he was a kid, but it had rooms available and looked distinctly  _ not _ like a shithole. He took a deep breath, making sure his mom wasn’t in close proximity, and dialed the number.

“Derry Town House, how can I help you?” Eddie made a face; the voice on the other end sounded far too chipper to his liking.

“Could I get a room for tonight?” he asked, keeping an eye on the entrance to the kitchen.

“Of course! A single or a double?”

“A single is fine.”

“For one night only?”

“For now. Could I keep it open for more nights, just in case?”

“We have plenty of rooms available, so that should be fine, Mr ...?”

“Kaspbrak,” he said, at the exact moment his mother entered the room. She frowned at him, and he whispered, “Work.”

“Feel free to check in anytime from noon onwards today,” the voice said. “There’s usually someone at the desk until eleven at night.”

“Thank you,” Eddie said, and hung up before anything else could be said. 

“You’re on holiday, Eddiebear!” his mother exclaimed. “I can’t believe they’d be bothering you on your day off!”

“It’s alright,” he said, putting his phone down. “Even if I wanted to I couldn’t come in. I’m too far away.”

“You know, my friends always ask me, ‘What does your son do?’, and I have to tell them, ‘Darling, I have no idea!’ Why do you hide so much from your mother? It’s not healthy to keep secrets like that, you know.”

Eddie sighed. “I’m an EMT, Ma.” He knew she would figure it out sooner or later, so rather she heard it from him straight than from the rumour mill. It wasn’t  _ entirely _ accurate, but he wasn’t going to bother explaining the intricacies of Emergency Medical Services, especially not about him being in training so he could do more.

Her face turned ashen. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Not really. Usually the people I take care of are in more danger than I am.”

“You’re going to get sick doing that. Who knows what you could catch?” She was waving her arms around, and he avoided one of her hands.

“I’ve been fine so far, Ma. I know what I’m doing.” He would never be allowed on an ambulance if he didn’t.

“You say that now, but--”

Eddie rubbed a hand over his face, exasperated. “I’ve had this job for a few years, I’ve been fine so far.”

“Don’t interrupt me, Eddiebear. Where have your manners gone? I didn’t raise you like this.”

Eddie pursed his lips, and tried very hard not to lose his patience. No, she’d raised him to be afraid of his own shadow, always compliant and clean and  _ nice _ . Eddie would be the first to tell anyone he was none of those things. Not really. “There’s nothing wrong with my job, Ma. I like helping people.” He decided not to go into the whole manners subject, because if he did, they’d still be here by the time dinner came around. “I like my job. There are lots of protocols in place to make it as safe as possible. It’s extremely unlikely I’ll get ill, or get hurt -- people usually don’t call for an ambulance if they have the flu.”

Although  _ people  _ didn’t necessarily equate to his mother. He could see her doing it, calling 911 in complete panic, utterly convinced a measly flu virus would kill her poor boy. 

“But--but you’re working with all sorts of-- of people,” she insisted. “Druggies, and  _ homeless  _ people, and--”

“Everybody deserves to get treated,” Eddie said. “I don’t care who or what they are. My job is to take care of them until they get to the hospital. I’m not going to waste more time on this. I’m not changing my job on a whim, Ma.”

“Well, don’t come running to me when something goes wrong! I told you so, young man.”

Eddie resisted sighing deeply. “Of course, Ma. Listen, I have some stuff to do. I’ll probably be gone for the rest of the day,” he said. He needed to find a good excuse for getting out of the house and staying out. “I need to, uh, stop by the second-hand store again.”

Sonia sighed. “Alright. Whatever you think is right.” She said it in an obviously disapproving tone. She didn’t like him selling his stuff, but she had no answer when he questioned what else he was supposed to do with it. He wasn’t looking forward to the conversation he’d have to have with her about selling  _ her _ things as well. It wasn’t as if she was moving to a bigger house.

“Don’t wait around. I’ll be gone for a while.” He stood up. “Maybe past dinner. I don’t know yet.”

“I worry when you’re out so late.”

“I can handle myself. Everyone thinks I’m  _ scary  _ and  _ mean  _ because of my tattoos, remember?” He tried not to sound bitter, but he was sure that he was failing. He didn’t stick around to see what his mother’s reply to  _ that _ would be, instead making his way to the garage where he’d already put the remainder of the boxes.

He’d been to the second-hand store so many times by now, the owner, Lydia, raised a hand as soon as she saw him enter. “Back again?” she said, sliding shut the magazine she’d been reading on the counter.

“I keep thinking ‘this must be the last of it’, and then find even more crap.” Eddie put one of the boxes on the counter. “I really hope this is the last. At least from my stuff. I still need to convince my mother she can’t keep all of her things.”

She snorted, and peered into the box. “We can always use more clothes. I’ll put this away, ask Geralt to see what we owe you. You got more?” 

“One more box.”

He walked after her into the back, where Geralt was sorting through boxes. Eddie was sure he’d be back later in the week, even if this was the third time he’d stepped foot in here this week already. He hadn’t been lying when he said his mother had no idea how to get rid off stuff. He thought it was amazing she hadn’t made her way to the store to buy his things back. 

He wiped his hands on his pants as they walked back out after Geralt had counted up his items and written up a receipt. “Feel free to come back,” Lydia said, and he nodded. “We can always use more.”

“Sure,” he said.

“I’d tell you to take a look around, see if there’s anything you like, but… You don’t really seem like the type to need anything right now.” 

He snorted. “No. Not exactly.” He glanced around the floor anyway, his eyes falling upon a familiar mop of dark hair. “On second thought, though.” He made his way to Richie, who was standing by the vinyl. It looked like he was browsing. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said, suppressing a laugh when Richie jumped.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, clutching his chest. “Oh! It’s you!” A smile appeared on his face once he realized it was Eddie. “Yeah, wow, it’s pretty funny to run into you again.”

“Derry is a small place. Sorry I didn’t call, but I forgot to ask for your number.” Eddie smirked, finding it cute how surprised Richie was. “Stupid me, right?”

“It’s okay. I forgot to ask, too. Obviously. Um, what are you doing here?”

“Selling some of my old clothes,” Eddie replied. “I told you how my mom’s moving, right? She still had a ton of my old stuff, so I’ve been sorting through that all week.”

Richie nodded, wincing sympathetically. “Yeah, she sounds like a piece of work.” 

“That’s one way to put it. What are  _ you _ doing here? You like music?”

Richie looked at the floor, shifting his weight awkwardly. He looked like he was embarrassed about something, or worried. “I do. I like it a lot, actually, but… I had to sell some of my records.” He pointed out a few of them out on the shelf. “Those all used to be mine.”

Eddie frowned. “Why’d you have to do that?”

“I sort of, uh, don’t have a place to live anymore? And I don’t have any money. I think I told you I got fired, so… I’m just trying to have at least some change in my pocket.” He studied his shoes. Eddie wanted to take his face in his hands and tell him not to be embarrassed, tell him that he wouldn’t judge. A second-hand store in Derry wasn’t really the best place for that, though.

“Oh, Rich, I’m so sorry. You need a place to stay?”

“Yeah, but… don’t worry about it, ‘kay? I’ll figure something out.” Richie smiled at him, but it was more of a failed attempt than a genuine look of reassurance.

“Well,” Eddie began. “I  _ do _ have a room at the town house for tonight. I really don’t want you staying on the street. That’s not safe.”

“I  _ know _ it’s not safe.” Richie managed to look up, into Eddie’s eyes, his cheeks pink. “But you don’t have to worry about me, I’ve got it handled. Aren’t you staying with your mom, anyway?”

“I was, but I was going insane. She’s, well, I told you some of it. Let’s just say that living with her is not easy,” he explained. After so many years on his own, it was weird to be staying with her again, because she wanted to keep tabs on him at all costs. 

Richie lifted his head, and Eddie could finally see his eyes properly in this light, remembering what a nice color they were. “Really, Richie, it’s no trouble if you wanna stay with me, you know that, right? I want to help.” He put a hand on Richie’s shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly.

He remembered all too well what it was like to be on his own, with no one to fall back on, no one to even ask for help. He wasn’t about to let Richie sleep out on the street when he had an available room. At the same time, he didn’t want to scare him away.

“I can’t--I can’t accept that, Eddie. How would I even pay you back?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie said. “I don’t want your money. Or anything else,” he added, before Richie could get any ideas into his head about favors he could do. “Pay it forward,” he said, allowing that one thing. “When you can.”

He saw Richie look away, obviously thinking it over, before giving him a short nod. Eddie dropped his hand from his shoulder. “I was just about to leave when I saw you. Do you need a ride?”

“That would be nice,” Richie replied. “You’re great, Eds, really.”

Eddie nudged him, trying to lighten the mood. “Don’t call me Eds. But if you want, you can call me  _ great  _ more. You’re not too scared to get on the motorcycle again?”

“No way. It was pretty fun last time, actually.”

They walked out to the parking lot together. Eddie wished he could reach his hand out and taken Richie’s in his own, but he knew it wasn’t the right time or place. He gave Richie his extra helmet. “Just hold on tight, you remember that, right?”

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” Richie said. He gave Eddie an almost-flirty smile before putting his helmet on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> robin has been having some family issues, so we haven't been able to write as consistently as usually. forgive us if our updating isn't as frequent, but i'm sure we'll be back very soon. thank you again for reading! xoxox


	7. A Roof Over Your Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, it's deedee again. i know we took a little break from uploading fairly regularly, so i hope the wait wasn't too long. i hope that you enjoy this chapter. :)

Richie had never counted upon anyone’s kindness, let alone the kindness of strangers, yet here he was, standing in the Derry Town House with two boxes of his meager belongings, Eddie standing at the front desk, waiting for whomever ran this place. He saw him drum his hand on the counter impatiently, and Eddie shot him a look. “Why don’t you head upstairs?” he suggested. “I’ll be there as soon as I get a key.”

“You sure?” Richie shifted the weight of a box on his hip. 

Eddie vaguely gestured around them. “It’s not as if anyone’s around to stop us.”

Richie shrugged, not disagreeing, and trudged on upstairs. The Town House wasn’t that big, and there were only so many places he could go. He sat down on a decorative chair, and waited for Eddie to come up, hopefully with his other box. 

He’d accidentally blurted out being homeless earlier, but the only thing he’d expected was a pat on the shoulder and a pitiful glance. Not to be offered a room in an inn. He’d known Eddie was staying with his mother, so he hadn’t said it because he wanted to be offered a place to stay. He’d said it because… well, Eddie already knew, didn’t he? Richie had told him about being evicted. Plus, Eddie wasn’t going to stick around Derry for much longer, so Richie wouldn’t have to run into him again. It hadn’t mattered in the long run -- until now, at least.

He sat there for what felt like too long, getting lost in his own head, which had been a common theme in his life lately. He heard Eddie come upstairs and watched him fumble with the key while holding Richie’s other box in his other arm, until he was able to unlock the door. “You coming?” he asked, looking at Richie with a soft smile. He stood up and followed him into the room, his cheeks taking on a red tinge when he realized there was only a single bed.

“Sorry, I wasn’t planning to have a guest, so I booked a single.”

“It’s fine. I totally understand.”

“Um,” Eddie said, then hesitated. It was the first time Richie had ever seen him obviously nervous. “I could just go stay with my mother for the night, so you can have the bed, and…”

“It’s fine,” Richie repeated. “I mean, if you  _ want _ to go back to your mom’s--”

“I don’t.”

“Didn’t think so. We’re adults, I don’t care if we have to share a room.”

Eddie laughed, sounding breathless. “True, I guess. Being back here makes me forget I am, sometimes.”

“Well.” Richie dumped his box on the floor, and saw Eddie do the same with the box he carried. “You can take the bed, I’ll take the floor.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious?”

“I mean, I’m glad I have a roof over my head. I don’t care whether I’m sleeping on carpet or a mattress.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Eddie said. “We’re adults, like you said. We can share the fucking bed.”

“Uh. Okay.”

Richie had, honestly, been prepared to sleep on the floor for the foreseeable future. Actually, he’d been prepared to sleep on a bench, or somewhere in the park, or maybe even the Barrens -- so the floor in a hotel room was an upgrade, in his opinion.

Eddie glanced at his phone and made a face. “I need to take care of some things. You can stay here, if you want. Do you want me to leave the key with you?”

“I can message you if I need to get in,” Richie said. What he wanted was to take a hot shower, because he hadn’t been able to at home. Cold showers sucked. “I’ll put my number into your phone, if that’s alright?”

“Sounds good.” Eddie handed over his phone, and Richie typed in his details. A minute later, a message on his own phone arrived from an unknown number.

“Now you’ve got mine, too,” Eddie said. “Anyway, I’ll be back later. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

“Thanks again,” Richie added quickly, just as Eddie was about to leave. “Seriously. You’re like, a lifesaver.”

Eddie smiled over his shoulder. “Anything for a handsome guy like you, right? See you in a bit.”

God damn him. Richie was pretty sure Eddie couldn’t go a few minutes without making him blush. He made his way to the shower, stripping out of his clothes and turning the knob all the way to the left, so it was scalding hot. Those were the best kind of showers. He stepped in, groaning when the hot water hit his skin. It didn’t fix everything, but it certainly helped. He used the hotel’s shampoo and mint-scented body wash. It was nice to be able to take his time, not jump in and out quickly because he was freezing.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in there, but it felt like hours, and honestly, he didn’t feel guilty about it. He didn’t have to pay the water bill at the end, after all.

He dried off, and fell on the bed clad only in his boxer shorts. Weird, how only this morning he’d packed his final belongings, leaving everything he couldn’t bring with him, and now… He hadn’t expected this. Would anyone? It sounded like something that only happened in movies.

Eddie was a good guy, he decided. Maybe a bit on the rugged side, but that made him all the more interesting. From the bits and pieces Richie had gathered so far, he knew Eddie had moved from Derry as soon as he could, just so he wouldn’t have to deal with his mother. Why on earth he was back here to help her was beyond Richie. Maybe he hadn’t cut ties entirely. 

Still, Richie wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he wasn’t going to judge Eddie for whatever he was doing. It was his life, he could do what he wanted with it, whether that was helping his overbearing mother move out or letting a virtual stranger sleep in his bed. 

Maybe he was one of those  _ yolo _ guys. 

Richie tried to imagine Eddie saying that with a straight face, and snorted out loud. No. Even if he was one of those guys who unironically said, ‘well, you’re only young once in your life’, Richie could not imagine him using meme language, of all things. Eddie was too… Too encroached in real life, he supposed. He probably didn’t spend the majority of his day on his phone, like Richie did, watching stupid videos on YouTube about cat loaves and dogs whose bark sounded like they were saying ‘hello’. (Richie had never claimed to be into high brow comedy. If he could get away with telling jokes about his (non-existent) cat, he totally would.)

But Richie hadn’t set foot on a stage for nearly three years now, so even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to tell  _ anyone _ jokes about hypothetical cats. Sadly enough.

Finally, he rolled off the bed and put his old clothes on again. He’d put on clean ones, but that meant he’d have to wash these, and he didn’t exactly have spare change lying around for the laundromat. He had to take care of the bare essentials first; food, most importantly. Drinks. Not the alcoholic kind, unfortunately. At least he had a bed to sleep on for the night, and hot water to get clean. He had the money from selling some of his things to the second-hand store, but he wanted to keep that for emergencies. He didn’t deem unwashed clothes an emergency -- at least, not yet.

He heard Eddie before he even opened the door, probably talking on the phone. “--no, Ma,” he said, his phone between his shoulder and head as he entered the room, “I’m not staying home tonight. I, uh.” His eyes fell on Richie. “I’m staying with a friend.”

Richie couldn’t hear what Eddie’s mother was saying, but he could hear her voice coming through the speaker. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” Eddie said, “like I told you. I just need to…” he trailed off and ran a hand over his face, and Richie felt as if he was witnessing a strangely intimate moment. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Ma. Good night.” He hung up, and sighed. “Would you believe me if I told you I’ve said that to her four different times already, but she keeps calling me back?”

“From what you’ve told me, yeah, I could believe it,” Richie replied. “Everything okay?”

“I mean… I guess things are as okay as they can be.” Eddie shrugged. “I see you showered.”

Richie touched his still-damp hair. “Yeah. It was nice. I don’t usually have hot showers.”

“I figured.” Eddie said it in a way that wasn’t judgemental or rude, just matter-of-fact. “Do you wanna grab dinner?”

“Oh, um, sure,” Richie agreed. His stomach had been making some pretty distinct noises. “Is there anything else you need to do? With your mom or...?”

Eddie shook his head. “Not tonight. I’m here to get away from that for a little while. Besides, you’re as skinny as a rake, it’s worrying me.”

“Look who’s talking,” Richie replied, giving Eddie a playful shove. “It’s not like you’re the biggest, buffest guy ever.” 

It was nice, to be able to tease each other like this. It felt natural, like they had known each other for much longer than they actually had. Richie felt like he had known Eddie for years, instead of days.

“We can’t all have mile-long legs like  _ you _ , Richie.” Eddie zipped up his jacket. “C’mon, I’ll take you to that restaurant across the street.”

“My legs are my best feature, aside from my extraordinarily handsome face.” Richie ran a hand through his messy hair once and decided that was good enough. If he tried to comb it, it would only make it worse. “I’ll pay you back when I can.”

“Shut up,” Eddie said. It was the fondest way Richie had ever heard someone say those words. “I don’t wanna hear anything about money tonight. I just wanna make sure you’re doing alright.”

Richie felt something akin to an ache in his chest. He was  _ not _ falling for Eddie. He could not be. But it sure fucking felt like it.

The restaurant across the street was pretty much the only non-shitty Italian place in Derry -- which Richie helpfully told Eddie. “Just don’t get the pizza. They’re soggy every fucking time.”

Eddie snorted. “If soggy pizza comes from the best Italian place in town, I’m worried what the other ones are like.”

“I think the one close to the library got shut down over health code violations, so.” Richie shrugged, and stared at the menu. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out for dinner. Most of his food this week had consisted of instant noodles and mac and cheese boxes. 

“Health code violations?”

“I’m pretty sure they had mould growing on a microwave or something,” Richie said, distracted. “You should get the spaghetti.”

“Why? Is it good?”

"No, because,” Richie tried to stop himself from laughing. “Because Eddie  _ Spaghetti _ .” 

“Oh my God. I’m not going to get the spaghetti now, because that would just encourage you.”

“No one’s ever called you that?” Richie asked. It had popped into his head as soon as he’d seen it on the menu.

“I don’t  _ think _ so, but also, as I’ve told you, I didn’t really have any friends growing up. So I wasn’t called much of anything.”

“That’s what I’m for,” Richie declared. “I’ve got lots of things I could call you! Eddie Spaghetti, Eds, Eduardo…”

“I hate all of those,” Eddie replied, but he was laughing. “Just call me Eddie.”

Richie put on an exaggerated pout. “That’s no fun, Eds!” 

“I guess I’ll just have to think of an equally insufferable nickname for you, so you know how it feels.” Eddie put his hand in his chin, completely ignoring the menu as he pondered what to call Richie.

“Feel free!” Richie said, smiling widely. “The best my friends came up with was Trashmouth, because--well, that’s what I am.”

“Can’t say I disagree with your friends,” Eddie said. “You do have a mouth on you.”

“A pretty mouth?” Richie batted his lashes. 

“The prettiest,” Eddie said, very seriously. A smile tugged at his lips, and Richie grinned. 

“Yours isn’t bad, either.” Richie was fully aware how cheesy and lovestruck he looked, but he couldn’t help himself. As far as he was concerned,  _ everyone _ should’ve been looking at Eddie that way--but also, no one, because Richie wanted him all to himself. “You proved that last week.”

There it was, a blush appearing on Eddie’s cheeks.  _ Payback! _ Richie thought. “You know, when you put it like that, it sounds like we did something  _ very _ different than just kiss.”

“And I’m the Trashmouth, huh?”

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me,” Eddie said with a wink, putting his menu down. “Could I have the tortellini?” he asked the waitress when she appeared by their side.

“Lasagna for me,” Richie said. Couldn’t go wrong with that, he figured. “Is that a good or a bad rubbing off?”

Eddie laughed into his drink. “What do you think?” 

Richie put his chin on his open palm. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

Eddie leaned closer over the table, lowering his voice. “I can always show you later.”

Richie sucked in a breath. God damn it, Eddie had him caught in a corner now. To be fair, it was a pretty nice corner to be in. “I-I’d like that,” he stammered out. He probably sounded like a total idiot, but he  _ meant _ it. Richie’d never met a guy like Eddie, who kept up with his awful mouth and gave as good as he got. And he was forward. Dear Jesus.

“That can be arranged.” Eddie chuckled softly, taking a sip of his water. His expression softened. “No pressure, though. I know I took you out to dinner and all, but you’re not obligated to repay me in any way, remember?”

Richie nodded, still a bit speechless. “I know. Thank you.” He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about Eddie in that way; it was impossible not to. He was young and sexually frustrated most of the time, and here came this absolute angel who also happened to be his type to a T. He took a gulp of his water as well, as if he was attempting to wash all those thoughts from his mind at the moment. He could keep it in his pants for the rest of the evening. Hopefully.

Surprisingly, the food was actually pretty decent. Richie ate as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks (and, let’s be real, instant noodles weren’t a very nutritional meal). Usually he’d talk during dinner, but he was a little busy shoving food into his mouth. So, Eddie filled in the silence instead, while Richie hummed and nodded along. He only had to say, “Tell me about where you live,” and Eddie started talking about Cleveland, about his apartment, his job. The normalcy of it surprised Richie, but then Eddie was a man full of surprises, wasn’t he?

After the meal, he used the bathroom, and by the time he came back Eddie had already paid. “Ready to go back to the hotel?” Eddie asked.

Richie nodded. “Sounds good.” He was surprisingly tired, probably from the combination of the hot shower and a full stomach. He hadn’t felt this comfortable in a long time, and wasn’t that a low bar to reach? “Thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it,” Eddie said. “I had a good time.”

“I did, too.” Richie felt as if he almost didn’t need to say it, because of course he had a good time. He always did with Eddie. So far, anyway. He tried not to think about how Eddie would be going home soon and that the good times that came with him would go with him, too. 

Once they got to their room, Richie flopped down on the bed. Eddie laughed. “You’re gonna get your clothes all wrinkled.”

“I could not care less.”

Eddie snorted. “Okay then. You want to borrow anything to sleep in, or are you covered?”

Richie opened his mouth, and then blushed. “Uh. I usually don’t… wear anything to bed.”

“Of course you don’t,” Eddie said with an amused smile. “I don’t know why I thought otherwise.”

“I’ll, uh, put an old t-shirt on or something tonight,” Richie said quickly. “Just so it’s not weird or anything.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie said. “If you want to sleep naked, be my guest.”

Richie spluttered. “I didn’t say I slept  _ naked _ .”

“Okay, okay. With your underwear on, then.” He’d started to take his own clothes off, and Richie couldn’t help but stare. Eddie was… He swallowed. He looked  _ good _ . He’d already known that, from the definition of his arms, but Jesus Christ. Was he going to have to will away a boner while trying to sleep? He hoped not. Before Eddie lost more than his sleeveless shirt, however, he disappeared into the bathroom where he presumably got changed.

Richie shimmied off his jeans, and took off his t-shirt. He was just shrugging on an old band shirt when Eddie returned from the bathroom, wearing a worn white t-shirt and actual pajama pants. 

“Bathroom’s free,” he said. 

By the time Richie got into bed ten minutes later, Eddie had already crawled under the blankets, and he was looking at his phone, typing away. 

“Reassuring your mom again?” Richie asked, taking off his glasses. Eddie instantly became a blur.

“Nah. A friend of mine wanted to know how it’s going. I’m just telling her I’m fine and that she doesn’t have to call the cops just yet.”

“Well, Derry cops are an absolute shitshow, so she shouldn’t bother.”

Eddie put his phone on the nightstand. “I tried telling her that. I’m not sure if she believed me.”

“In her defense, Derry is a crazy town. Gotta see it to believe it, I guess.” He sighed, and leaned back against his pillow. “Thanks for all this, Eds.”

“You’re welcome, Richie. I’m happy to help you out.”

Richie couldn’t distinguish Eddie’s facial features anymore, but he could tell Eddie was looking at him. “Thanks,” he mumbled again. “Goodnight, I guess.”

He swore he could almost hear the smile in Eddie’s reply. “Goodnight, Trashmouth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always for the kudos/comments! xoxox


End file.
